


Even Now

by elisetales



Series: Promises [5]
Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Blood, Domestic Violence, Id Fic, M/M, Unrequited Love, Victim Blaming, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:19:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisetales/pseuds/elisetales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-series. Cain rescues Deimos from a bad situation. For KT.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kurenai_Tenka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurenai_Tenka/gifts).



> I'm sorry I gratuitously abuse Deimos so frequently; I am a terrible person and there are no excuses for me. Blame Kurenai-Tenka too, btw, because she asked for it. Also, this is pure idfic, short and choppy, abrupt switching of POVs, and... JUST SORRY OKAY. It has no point, only pain. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Names:**
> 
>  
> 
> Deimos = Aleks
> 
> Cain = Sacha
> 
> Abel = Ethan
> 
> Please check end notes for translations.

It was already dark by the time Sacha got there, windy and freezing cold and lashing down rain. He zipped up his jacket and lit a smoke, took to the stairs of the apartment block two at a time and searched for Aleks' door, hoping he remembered what Ethan had told him right.

_Twenty-four, twenty-four, twenty-four..._

The door was ajar when Sacha finally found it, dim light spilling out onto the wet concrete. Sacha flicked his smoke over the railing of the balcony and pushed the door open, letting himself in, wrinkling his nose as he took in the fucking mess before him. The place was trashed—broken glass all over the floorboards; clothes strewn everywhere, and a suspicious-looking red stain by one of the armchairs. Sacha crouched down and inspected it, got up again only when he was convinced it wasn't blood. Just spilled wine, judging by the smell of it.

"Aleks," he called, wiping his hand against the pocket of his jeans. His voice bounced off the stripped walls of the apartment, echoing back at him. "Aleks?" he grumbled again, stepping over a torn couch cushion and the jagged base of a broken bottle. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, kicking them under the coffee table and out of sight before he sought out the tiny kitchen.

It was just as bad in there, dishes piled up in the sink and only the pilot light over the stove still on. Sacha spotted him as soon as his eyes adjusted to the weak light, sitting there on the floor and pressed into a corner, his back against the cabinet and knees drawn to his chest, face turned away from Sacha.

Sacha paused in the entryway and let out a slow breath, relieved at least to see Aleks up and breathing. Hadn't realized until now he was actually worried something had happened to the little shit. He hesitated a second before he went to him, crouching down in front of him and staring at the top of his head, keeping his hands to himself for the moment in case Aleks was still skittish. 

"Ethan told me where to find you," he explained, without being asked. "You called him, yeah?" Aleks didn't move, or say anything at all. Sacha scowled and nudged his shoulder, harder than he'd meant to. "What the fuck happened in here, Aleks?"

Aleks shrugged one narrow shoulder, sharp and bony through the flimsy cotton of his white shirt, and Sacha ground his jaw, grabbed one of Aleks' wrists and yanked his arm away from his face. "You look at me when I'm talking to you," he said between his teeth. “I asked you, what the fuck happened in here?”

Aleks wouldn't look at him, but lifted his head at least--fucking typical; only way to be sure you'd get a response out of him was to get mean with him--and stared blankly at a point past Sacha's shoulder, purposefully avoiding his gaze. Sacha was good at hiding his surprise upon seeing Aleks' face, took in the cut on his' throat, the blood all over his shirt, his split knuckles and bruised cheek, and didn't bat an eyelid.

"You let him do this to you?" he demanded, disgusted, and gestured to the cut on Aleks' throat, the purpling bruises on his face. Aleks shook his head. "Then what the fuck went on in here?" Sacha pressed.

Nothing added up with Aleks. Sacha knew he could take care of himself, would have come running a lot sooner if he'd ever thought he couldn't, but he knew Aleks wouldn't let anyone bust him up like this unless he wanted it. Wanted to get hurt and used and stepped on, just like Sacha had hurt and used and stepped on him all those years ago.

“It was just a fight,” Aleks said, voice weak and raspy. He coughed delicately into one little fist and went on, “He was mad at me for talking to Ethan. Tried to take my phone; that’s how it started.”

“You call the cops on him?” Aleks shook his head and Sacha snorted, asked, "You get him as good as he got you?" Aleks gave a jerky little nod.

" _Khoroshiy malʹchik_ ," Sacha muttered, getting to his feet. "Now get up and get your shit," he ordered, lighting another smoke and pocketing the pack. "We're leaving now."

"I-I can't," Aleks stuttered. "If he comes back—"

"Then I'll fucking kill him," Sacha snapped, and meant it. "Now get moving."

Aleks still wouldn’t move, though, just sat there like a broken little china doll, all vacant and glassy-eyed and fucking useless. Sacha hated seeing him so weak. With a little growl, he dropped back down to his knees and glared hard at him. “Aleks, look at me.” Aleks did as he was told and Sacha added, “Baby,” just to be gentle with him, coax him up off the floor at least so they could get the fuck out of here, “you want to come with me, or not?”

Aleks took a little breath and, slowly, reached a hand out to touch Sacha’s face; just briefly, brushing the back of his hand across his cheek like he'd forgotten what Sacha looked like. He let it drop then and pulled it back to himself. “I want to come with you,” he whispered, finally letting Sacha grab his arm and haul him up to his feet.

Sacha caught his face between his hands as soon as he did, before Aleks had the chance to dodge away from him, and carefully inspected his bruises and the cut on his throat—shallow but nasty, and deep enough to still be oozing blood. Aleks stood still while Sacha checked him over, pale and expressionless; didn’t budge at all until Sacha let him go and quietly said, “Go get changed and clean yourself up. And put your coat on before you come out; I’ll get your bag and start the car.”

He waited until Aleks was shut away inside the bathroom and the taps were running before he let himself into Aleks’ room and grabbed up the first bag he could find, stuffing it full with anything relatively clean and small enough to belong to Aleks, silently shaking with rage as he thought about Erik, and Aleks, and what Aleks had let be done to him.

* * *

Sacha waited until they were in the car, on the freeway and almost home, before he spoke again, told Aleks what he was really thinking:

“Why didn’t you just kill him when you had the chance? Erik’s a fucking pussy, Aleks, don’t tell me he got one over on you and you couldn’t stop him. What really happened? You ask him to bang you up or something?”

Aleks cleared his throat, nostrils filled with Sacha’s pungent cigarette smoke, and leaned his forehead against the frosted window, watching the quick little zig-zag of raindrops track down the glass, trying to avoid looking too long at Sacha's, or his own, reflection. “I told you,” he mumbled, just to get Sacha off his case, “we had a fight. I didn’t ask him to do anything to me.” Hadn’t tried hard enough to stop him either, but then Sacha already knew that. Knew him too well, and that had always been the problem.

Sacha snorted and leaned over him to stub out his smoke, almost in Aleks’ lap for a second, his breath warm on Aleks’ neck and his hair brushing Aleks’ face. Aleks leaned back in his seat, didn’t want to touch him and risk getting left at the side of the road, and waited for Sacha to pull away again, leave him empty.

When he did, he said, “Listen, I’m not giving you your phone back just so you can go running back to him. Not this time. You want to fight me for it?”

“No,” Aleks answered, breath hitching when Sacha put his hand on his leg and kept it there as they sat in silence for the rest of the ride home.

* * *

Aleks wondered if he’d made a mistake almost as soon as he got back to Sacha’s, everything about him and Ethan and their lives like salt in his wounds, reminding him of everything he didn’t have; everything he couldn’t have, and that Ethan had everything Aleks wanted—a life with Sacha, and all of Sacha’s love without ever having to beg for it.

Erik had told him he loved him too, Aleks reminded himself; had said it over and over and yet it had never meant anything to him, not even if Erik had meant it and he didn't. Aleks knew it’d never mean anything unless it was coming from Sacha.

Miserable and still sore, he sank down into the couch next to Sacha, Sacha drinking beer and yelling at the TV while Ethan fussed over Aleks with the first-aid kit. Sacha’s and Ethan’s cat wound around between his legs and rubbed her face up against his foot, her kittens rolling around on the carpet and play-fighting with each other while Aleks watched on with vague interest.

It was warm here, he thought, and safe at least, and Sacha was close. Aleks told himself he was better off now than he’d been that morning, even if here was almost as bad. Erik didn’t remind him of everything he couldn’t have. Erik was Erik, and he was nothing like Sacha.

“There,” Ethan said finally, frowning a little, his lip between his teeth as he pasted another band-aid over one of the cuts on Aleks’ arm. Aleks hardly felt it. “All done now. Are you feeling any better?” He brushed the hair out of Aleks’ eyes, always so gentle, and pressed up closer to him on the couch, body warm along Aleks’ side.

Aleks gave him a tiny smile and nod. “Thanks.” He went lax when Ethan hugged him and pressed his head to his shoulder, didn’t miss Sacha’s loud snort of disgust when Ethan pulled him up from the couch by the hand and lead him into the guest bedroom.

“You must be tired,” Ethan said with his back to him, fluffing the pillows and dragging back the covers, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in the bedsheets. “It’s alright if you just want to be alone,” he added, turning back to Aleks with a sad look, his head tilted to one side. With his big eyes and open face, he'd always reminded Aleks of a puppy.

“Thanks,” Aleks said again, briefly touching Ethan’s hand with his as Ethan leaned down to brush soft lips across his cheek. He watched from the bed as Ethan paused in the doorway, a pained look on his face, and said, “I’m so sorry, Aleks,” before he closed it, left Aleks alone in the silence.

Aleks got into bed after that and lay there in the dark, eyes unblinking as he stared at the shadowy wall and wondered what Ethan had meant. Sorry about Sacha, or about letting Erik beat him? Knowing Ethan, he'd probably meant both.

It wasn’t long after that the house went dark and quiet, TV switched off and nothing to hear but the sound of Ethan’s and Sacha’s faint voices drifting through the wall from the other room, the steady pounding of rain against the window. Aleks lay awake what felt like hours and listened to them fuck: Sacha’s grunts and curses and Ethan’s sweet, muffled little moans— probably trying to keep it down unless Aleks heard—too loud through the thin walls.

Sacha probably knew Aleks could hear everything and likely didn't give a damn, was just the way he was.

When everything was quiet again, Aleks closed his eyes, still too wired to sleep, and listened to the soft patter of rain falling against the roof. When the door to the spare room creaked open, his eyes flew open in the dark, panicking a moment even if he knew it was just Sacha or Ethan, and that he was safe here. Erik would never come for him here and face down Sacha, no matter how desperate he got.

“Aleks,” Sacha said, padding over to the bed and sitting down on the edge of the mattress, hand warm on Aleks’ shoulder. Aleks flinched away from him.  

“ _Ne revnuy_ ,” Sacha said on a sigh. He leaned over Aleks, hard chest pressed to Aleks’ arm, and set a glass down on the bedside table. “Water,” he said before Aleks could ask. He smelled like sex and Ethan.

“ _Kak by vy sebya chuvstvuyete_?” Aleks whispered back.

Sacha rubbed along his arm, leaned over him again and said in his ear, “Go to sleep. And stop thinking so fucking much, hm?” He gripped Aleks’ chin then, kissed him rough, and let him go before Aleks could even put his fingers in his hair, or taste Ethan on his mouth.

He stood up and went for the door again, and when he reached it Aleks blurted, “ _Ne mogu zhitʹ bez tebya. Ya tebya lyublyu. On mne bolʹno tak mnogo, potomu chto ya vse yeshche lyublyu tebya._ ” He sucked in a breath, swallowed the lump in his throat and wished he'd never said anything at all.

“I know,” Sacha said, and all Aleks could see was the silhouette of him against the doorway of the room. “Go to sleep, Myshonok.” He shut the door then, heavy footsteps fading down the short hallway as he went back to Ethan. Aleks blinked back hot tears, biting his lip as he rested his head back down on the pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> **Translations:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  _Khoroshiy malʹchik_ = Good boy.
> 
>  _Ne revnuy_ = Don't be jealous.
> 
>  _Kak by vy sebya chuvstvuyete?_ = How would you feel?
> 
>  _Ne mogu zhitʹ bez tebya. Ya tebya lyublyu. On mne bolʹno tak mnogo, potomu chto ya vse yeshche lyublyu tebya_ = I can't live without you. I love you. He hurt me so much, because I still love you. 
> 
> (I tried my very best with these but fully expect there are errors. Sorry.)


End file.
